


Coalburnt

by for_t2



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Autumn, District 12 (Hunger Games), F/F, Fire, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Hunters & Hunting, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Propaganda, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24133738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: Even artists turned into fighters during the rebellion. Now that the war's over, now that there's no more propos to shoot, the problem is turning the fighters back into artists
Relationships: Cressida/Katniss Everdeen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Coalburnt

Every little pop of the bubbles in the stew boiling on the stove made Katniss’s heart skip a beat. The heat of the steam rising up from the pot almost made her flinch, and the cool autumn breeze from the crack in the window just seared her face even deeper. 

But she never turned away. She couldn’t. Turning away would mean looking at the drying blood of the game she gutted just a few minutes ago. Turning away would mean admitting defeat. 

Katniss would never turn away from the fire. 

And every second that the paint crumbled down the damp walls, that the rain, still thick with decades of coal soot, stained the stones of the victor’s mansion, that the sound of her echoed through the hallways and towards no one, the fire raged a little more, consumed-- 

When someone knocks on the door, her first instinct is always to grab a knife. 

And when the knocking continues, sharp and regular, her second instinct was to raise the knife as she crept towards it. 

“Not really the welcome I was expecting.” 

It took all of Katniss’s willpower not to bring the knife down. To just stay still, trembling in the doorframe. 

“Can’t say I blame you.” Cressida parted her jacket to show the black gun tucked beneath. For a few moments after, neither of them said a word. “You look better.” 

It was a weird thing to say. “Better?” Better than what? “Why…” Better since when? “What do you want from me?” 

Cressida gave Katniss her best attempt at a friendly smile as she held up her camera. “Ready to be my star again?” 

* 

Maybe slamming the door in her face had been a little rude, but Katniss had never really had time for manners, and she didn’t have any reason to change now. And it definitely beat the awkward silence that hung over the table. Maybe re-opening the door was a mistake. It probably was. It-- 

The moment Cressida’s spoon clinked as it dropped back into the empty bowl, Katniss grabbed her knife. 

“It was good.” Cressida didn’t lean back, didn’t relax, until Katniss lowered the knife. “Thank you.” 

Katniss hadn’t touched her food. It was probably cold by now. That happened a lot. “No.”

“Katniss—” 

“I won’t do it!” Her voice only really came in two settings anymore: a hoarse shout when the ringing in her ears got too loud, and an even hoarser whisper when everyone else got too silent. “I won’t do it. I can’t do it. I won’t.” 

“I know it’s not easy.” Katniss could tell Cressida was having trouble looking her in the eye. “But Panem still needs you. Still needs its mockingjay.” 

“I killed her.” A single arrow, right through the president’s heart. 

“You did us a favour.” Cressida shrugged, her half-shaven hair stirring almost imperceptibly, almost beautifully in the light of the fireplace. “We’ve had free elections. A proper assembly. Shit, we’re almost a real democracy.” 

“Then you don’t need me.” 

“You started the revolution.” Cressida’s tone came sharper, digging into Katniss’s skin. “You can’t run away from it. You don’t have the right.” She spoke up again the moment Katniss’s mouth opened. “We still need you. We always have.” 

* 

Katniss watched the leaves crumble away in the wind. 

“Don’t move.” Sometimes, she remembered why she respected, even liked, Cressida. For a rich, spoiled art freak from Snow’s Capitol, she always responded so quickly to Katniss’s voice. Always there, always doing what she had to do in the background. It was easy to feel alone with her. 

Katniss barely felt Cressida’s camera on her back as she drew her bow. 

Aimed at the deer. A single arrow, sharp and lethal. 

Breathed… 

Felt Cressida flinch. Felt the arrow go wide. 

“What did I tell you?” She grabbed Cressida. Slammed her against a tree. “I told you to shut up! That deer was…” The deer was hers. Her prey. Her kill. And Cressida, trying so desperately to stand straight, to not let the corners of her mouth tremble, was so close to being the next in the hunt. “That was our supper.” 

“I’m sorry.” The moment Katniss let go of her was the moment Cressida finally met her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

* 

“Well, it’s not the best, but…” Katniss watched as Cressida placed a couple plates down on the table. “It should be edible.”

“Just edible?” Katniss poked at the food, product of Cressida’s heartfelt insistence on making up for scaring their supper away. Well, food might’ve been a bit of a stretch. The vegetables were still a bit… earthy, and the meat, well, Katniss knew what coal looked like. “If you say so.” 

“You don’t trust me?” For the first time in what felt like ages, Katniss felt her frown start to fade. “I can absolutely…” Cressida took a bite out of the food. 

Chewed. 

Swallowed. 

Silence. 

“I can’t cook. I really can’t cook.” Katniss felt her lips quirk as Cressida pushed the plate as far away as possible. “In my defence, I was raised in the Capitol and then there was a revolution.” 

“Oh, come on.” Katniss stuck her fork into her slice of meat. “It can’t be that…” Munched down. 

It was that bad. 

* 

“You don’t want to turn into Haymitch.” 

“I’m too pretty for that.” Katniss somehow giggled as she tried to swipe the bottle back from Cressida. “Was that what you told me?”

“Even he was pretty once.” Cressida stored the bottle well out of reach and sight. 

“Yeah, right.” Katniss snorted as she gave up on the bottle and leaned back against the side of the fireplace. “Where is…” Haymitch. Effie. Joanna. Annie. Everyone. 

“He’s—” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Katniss cut Cressida off as quickly as she could. It was better not to know how many people became destitute, morphling addicts, traitors to the revolution. Dead. 

“He’s happy. Married.” Everyone always ended up dead. Here in District 12 and in all the other Districts. And just because the districts had been officially abolished didn’t mean they stopped existing. Even if it was only in her head. 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“I wouldn’t.” 

“You’re a propo director.” Everything always goes wrong. “And you’re a good one.” 

Cressida leaned against the warm stones across the fireplace from. “I just had a good muse.”   
With every second that passed, Katniss found it harder and harder not to squirm under the sharp blue of Cressida’s eyes. To not get lost in the way the flames danced off the blonde of her hair and the shadows around the vines tattooed across her neck and… “Hey.” Katniss leaned over. Brushed a few stray hairs out the way. 

“it’s new.” 

Katniss traced her hand across the new tattoo. A small mockingjay, nestled between the vines. “Prim.” She kept her fingers on Cressida’s neck. “The rebellion propos.” Holding on for dear life as the tears broke through. “Did you have any of Prim?” 

* 

“And…” Katniss tried to find the words. “And then we were there,” she finished, a little lamely. 

“Perfect.” But maybe Cressida’s small, satisfied smile from the chair made it a little less lame. “Anything else you want to add?”

Katniss curled up around herself a little tighter on the sofa. “No.”

“Alright, so.” Cressida hesitated. Just long enough to send little spark of anxiety up Katniss’s spine. “The question that everyone in Panem wants to know: how’s Peeta?” 

“Peeta?” 

“Star-crossed lovers and all that.” 

“When did you turn into Caesar Flickerman?” Cressida stiffened just enough for Katniss to know she had struck a nerve. “I didn’t know we needed a new one. Maybe—” 

“Don’t.” Cressida’s voice was as sharp as always. “Not him. Not any of them.” 

“But don’t you want to hear all about how we—”

“Katniss.” Cressida turned off the camera. Pushed it away. “No one’s heard anything from him. Not for months.” 

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.” 

“That doesn’t stop rumours.” She reached a hand out towards Katniss. Stopped halfway there and pulled it back. “There are a lot of rumours, Katniss.” 

“Maybe it’s none of their business.” 

“Not everybody gets to hide in a victor’s mansion.” 

Katniss laughed. Short, almost spiteful. “Do you think I asked for this?” She uncurled herself. Shifted back into a stance that some people used to call arrogant. “I don’t know where he is. You don’t know. Maybe he ran off into the woods. Maybe he decided to join the sanitation corps in District 1. Maybe he’s next door, hiding just like me. And maybe he’s still alive.” She let out a laugh that was more a sigh than anything else. “Don’t he at least deserve that? Don’t I?”

For what felt like a few minutes, Cressida said nothing. Eventually, she reached out and took Katniss’s hands. “Yeah. You do.” 

* 

The first thing Katniss noticed once the adrenaline fury calmed in her veins was the screaming. Her screaming. 

The second thing she noticed was the sun, glaring through the windows, blinding even as it set. 

The third thing she noticed was the blanket on the floor. Was Cressida, thrown back and clutching her face. 

“Oh, god.” Katniss scrambled to get up and drop down to Cressida. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The fourth thing she noticed was the fear. “I didn’t meant to. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine.” Cressida groaned as she pushed herself up. “I get them too.” She pulled her hand away from her face. “I’ve had…” 

The only thing either of them noticed was the thing that made them freeze. 

The blood. 

* 

Katniss found her packing her bags. “Cress?”

“Hey.” Cressida gave her a smile as she stuffed her camera into its pouch. As she zipped the bag. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I think I’ve got all the footage I need.” She flung her jacket over her shoulders. “It’s going to be one hell of a propo. There isn’t going to be a person in Panem isn’t going to believe in the rebuild. Even you.” 

“You’re leaving.” 

“Thank you.” Cressida gave Katniss a quick hug. “Come visit sometime. See how things are going. Let people see you.” 

Katniss barely had time to hug her back before she was two steps out the door. “Wait.” 

“Katniss?”

“Aren’t you going to…” There weren’t any trains in the middle of the night. “Can you stay a little longer? Please?” 

* 

The two sat on opposite ends of the sofa, not moving, not saying anything, just watching the flames in the fireplace fade to embers, waiting as the darkness of the night crept further and further into the room. 

“Katniss?” 

Katniss glanced over at Cressida. 

“We survived.” 

Katniss kept her glance steady. Leaned over. Planted the smallest kiss on her lips. “We did.” She curled an arm around Cressida. Closed her eyes. “We survived.” 

* 

The morning hunt that day was the best Katniss had in months. Maybe even the best hunt she had in years. The forest just felt so alive. She even smiled when heard the mockingjays, even whistled back. 

“Hey.” She carried the deer over to the front steps. “You’re finally awake.” 

“Katniss.” Cressida couldn’t meet her eyes again. 

“What’s wrong?” Couldn’t stop the panic from crawling up her throat again.

“I lied.” 

* 

Katniss dropped a couple of slices of meat onto the stove. Watched them fry. “That’s it?” Dropped a couple more slices on. “You could’ve told me.” 

Cressida dropped her head a little lower between her arms. “Some things aren't easy to say.” 

“Isn’t that your job?”

She could’ve sworn she heard the tiniest of snorts from the table. “It was my job.” Cressida sighed. “What’s the point of propo after the revolution?” 

Katniss shrugged. Flipped the slices over. “People still need to believe in the rebuild.” 

“People don’t need me to tell them to believe in it.” Cressida pulled her head out of her hands. “I think you taught me something about being spontaneous.” 

Katniss pulled the slices out of the heat. “Sure.” Slid two plates across the table. 

The two ate in silence. It didn’t take long, and it felt far, far shorter than it had any right to be. 

Katniss was the first to finish. The first to get up. “Cress--”

“It was you.” Cressida interrupted her, her voice softer than Katniss would’ve imagined was possible. “It was you. I don’t know when, but it was you. I started fighting for you.” Katniss waited for her to finish. “I don’t…” To the find the words for the last pieces of her thoughts. “Who am I supposed to fight for now?” 

Katniss stepped around the table. “I’m still here.” Kissed Cressida’s forehead. Found her hand. “Let’s fight together.”


End file.
